Prologue
The world ended when the angels fell. We thought it was a meteor shower at first; bright, shooting stars falling down the skies as if the whole universe rained down their beauty on us. I remember emerging out of my house in the middle of the night, watching the skies in awe.
When they got closer—too close—I realized they weren’t shooting stars.
They were balls of flames. I was too transfixed to hide, and I watched in horror as I saw what they actually were.
They were men. Strong-muscled bodies with white wings surrounded by flames.
When they dropped to Earth, everything exploded.
The arrival of the angels didn’t mean the world became a better place. It didn’t mean we were given salvation. They were raiders and we were roaches. They said they couldn’t stand watching us destroying ourselves and the entire planet, so they came to put things right.
Starting with our blood.
When the angels fell, the whole world sang red.